


together in a thousand hues

by ryuuseirune



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Auras, Angst, Crushes, Drama, Feelings, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Romance, Trans Masaru | Victor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-12
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:14:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25219846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ryuuseirune/pseuds/ryuuseirune
Summary: Living far away from all of your friends and family can be hard.Victor knows this quite well - he's never been good at communicating in the first place, and added distance just makes everything a little worse. So when Hop tells him he's leaving for Kalos in a month's time - and he'll be gone for two whole years - Victor realizes just how many things have been left unsaid and undone.[An AU where Victor can see other people's auras based on their moods.]
Relationships: Hop/Masaru | Victor
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. canvas

**Author's Note:**

> special drinking game for wyatt: take a shot every time i mention one of your hcs
> 
> warning: writing this fic is like a vent for me, philosophical shit ahead. also gay yearning since that's all I've ever known. i hope you are all ready to suffer.
> 
> don't worry about the cake fic, I'm working on chapter five. I've already written two chapters of this fic so don't be concerned about my ability to not handle this B)

“How do you see the world?”

As Galar’s reigning champion, Victor has been asked some variation of this question at least a hundred thousand times. No matter the circumstances, his response always remains the same:

“Like any other person would.”

Understanding what those words mean is beyond him, however. Many people have tried to pick his statements apart, look into the deeper meaning behind his syntax, livetweet his speeches like they actually mean something – but to Victor, the words broadcasted to millions of viewers around Galar don’t really mean anything. In fact, the sentences strung together into rhetoric are merely for show – making him relatable, human, concrete – all the things that Victor doesn’t quite comprehend.

In truth, it’s Victor’s worldview that’s caused him so much pain in the first place. For one, his inability to understand social cues has really fucked up his social life. Two, he  _ can’t _ see the world like most people – because, in Victor’s eyes, people are encased in chrysalides of color that glow and fluctuate and  _ buzz. _ Although he doesn’t hate his condition, it definitely makes it at least two to three times more difficult to  _ actually communicate _ in crowded areas.

Furthermore, Victor  _ may  _ hold the title of Champion and the hearts of young people all throughout Galar – but Victor has never felt comfortable with being called “Champion Victor.” If there’s a word to describe his feelings toward his current status, it’s probably “undeserving” – Victor is  _ Victor _ and nothing else – just  _ average. _ His appeal is largely based on that – an immigrant from Sinnoh moves to a small town in Galar, and, solely due to luck, manages to defeat everyone in his path until he becomes the so-called “King.”

But royalty itself is a farce – only existing in the bedside storybooks of his childhood, where remnants of “happy family life” lay buried.

Family. Victor remembers that.

According to his father, dreamless and hopeless people don’t amount to anything. And yet, Victor stands above the whirring masses – alone, without the flames of passion or the drilling desire to continue on. It’s ironic, really – his father’s absence is the one thing he resents the most about his childhood, and now he’s repeating the same exact mistakes his father once did before the accident. Victor swore to never leave his mother or Gloria behind ever again, but now he can’t even remember the last time he spoke to them.

And Hop – his most important person – is still so far away.

Victor’s heart clenches in retaliation at the thought that wells up inside his mind. As if his soul is trying to comfort him, it conjures up the color of Hop’s aura in the corner of his eye – a delightful mauve that frolics into lavender shades on good days and borders indigo on bad ones. But for Victor, it’s not enough – the feeling that burns bright within him when Hop is by his side is nowhere to be found.

He can feel the edges of his vision blur with another emotion he doesn’t understand.

When Victor thinks of Hop, he thinks of their camping trips, their friendly competition, their trust – and how much he misses all of that. Victor longs for other things, too – can he say he misses Hop’s love if he hasn’t even had it? Dull, dreary, bitter – unlike memories of the past, Victor’s unearthed feelings only air out bad thoughts.

Victor can’t make Hop love him if he doesn’t  _ want  _ to love him. He can’t force anything onto his best friend. Victor always looks toward Hop on miserable days, but like how staring straight at the sun can make one go blind, observing Hop too long can cloud over Victor’s besmirched heart. Hop’s countenance is so brilliant, blanching his world with a mere smile – as if the only color that ever existed is Hop. 

It’s painful to love someone while being a phantom of your past self – but can Victor even call his feelings love? It’s more akin to longing – but then again, who longs for their best friend’s hand wrapped around their own? Who wants their best friend to smile at them like they’re the only thing that matters? Who wants their best friend to kiss them with a grin on their lips, tender and forgiving, as if it’ll erase all of the pain? Are any of those things normal to ask of your best friend? He can’t necessarily form an answer yet – but he certainly will, at least one day.

Hop has never been a patient person – rushing into feelings headfirst, jumping to conclusions – he’s always constantly thinking and moving and  _ acting. _ Victor, on the other hand, is slow-paced – watching the world pass him by with every minute – unchanging. In some ways, he feels like a Snom at maximum level – there’s something more to be desired, but he can’t evolve at all. While Hop is always developing new concepts, always pursuing his dream of becoming a certified professor, Victor is putrefying – simply fighting to stay the same without decaying. 

It hurts to acknowledge that he hasn’t grown, that what he defines as his life is already breaking – but can he really do anything if he doesn’t accept it? Victor is nothing without Hop, always grasping at whatever the professor-in-training leaves behind – whether it’s fragments of his childhood dream or the rare tears he sheds, Victor picks it all up in desperation – searching for something more.

Hop means everything to Victor, after all.

* * *

“I’m going to Kalos,” Hop admits in the middle of their sleepover.

Victor doesn’t quite register the depth of those words at first. Sure, he always knew that Hop would have to complete his Ph.D. somehow – but the idea of Hop leaving for a foreign country has never been planted in his mind before. It’s so fresh, the concept hasn’t even germinated yet – and without breaking soil, Victor isn’t sure how to dissect its meaning. 

The two of them are hardly eighteen, just emerging into adulthood. Even so, Victor wrangles with himself every day, fighting the tiny voice in his head that calls him a dreamless good-for-nothing. As champion, Victor stagnates – both in his personal development and in his world view. His passion to search and discover has long since died – and even when he combs the depths of his soul, Victor can’t find even a teaspoon of motivation. What will he do if he loses his title? Who will he become? Will his life still have meaning? The answers are bleak in nature – there’s nothing for the boundless dunes of his existence, deserted and empty.

But Hop is a different story.

With that blistering hot aura and ephemeral soul, Hop pushes forward despite all adversity. Unlike Victor, who is obsolete, Hop has only just begun to bud. Ever since becoming Sonia’s assistant five years ago, Hop has only grown more iridescent with each passing day. Hop’s emotional capacity is far greater than Victor’s – which is one of the many reasons that Victor enjoys his presence. He makes up for what Victor lacks – filling in the empty spaces and burning bright enough for the two of them. 

For a while, the two stood together – and Victor grew complacent with their arrangement.

To be fair, Victor should have seen Hop’s departure coming. After all, Hop can’t always stay by Victor’s side – he’s his own person, after all. Victor reminds himself that he’s an individual, too – but the thought sounds half-hearted in his chest, growing muffled and frustrated with each repeated word. Hop deserves to grow on his own without Victor holding him down like this – Hop works so hard to make a name for himself, one that’s separate from “Lee’s little brother” or “the Champion’s best friend” or “the other hero.” Victor knows that – knows Hop’s dreams are worth more than his selfish wishes, knows that Hop has always deserved a place in the history books, knows that Hop won’t be gone forever – but it still aches nonetheless.

They’ve known each other since they were children. It only makes sense for Victor to feel sad – after all, Hop has been there for him since the very day Victor and his family moved to Galar. 

His early childhood was painted with flowers of all sorts. The smell of honey and the taste of berries were once a constant in his life – but when they’d moved to temperate Postwick with its scalding summers and freezing winters, there was no place for the berries that required a more stable climate. 

Floaroma summers were warm – filled with memories of Tanabata in early August, where Volbeat and Illumise would dance around like the world had become a ballroom filled with tiny stars. In winter, snows were more like a slush – so the flowers would always remain intact.

Galar had none of those things. For one, the summers were filled with mosquitoes. Victor remembers waking up with at least sixty bumps just on his feet and ankles the morning after they’d moved in. Not only that, but the winters were brutal – there wasn’t space for fragile flowers to grow. Despite the differences and the cultural disconnect, Victor always had one thing – one person – to look forward to.

Hop.

Somehow, the images of a young Hop dominate Victor’s memories. Their mothers had essentially forced the two boys to play together at first – but even back then, Hop had an unbeatable charisma that let him fight his way into Victor’s lonely heart. Together, he, Hop, and Gloria were the best of friends – practically inseparable. 

He supposes that’s no longer the case.

When had he begun thinking of Hop as something more than a friend? A year after they’d met? Two years? Whenever it was, it was  _ early _ – way too early for Victor to even recognize his feelings, much less remove them. By the time he’d realized it, his love had ingrained itself far too deep to be uprooted – so he took to hiding it instead. 

At first, it was difficult – Hop was always by his side, a constant reminder of his affections. Eventually, Victor grew better at taming his reactions – to the point where no one could decipher them. 

And then, Gloria moved away.

Victor locked his emotions into a tiny cage and kicked it under a bed as if it would help him cope with the distance. It didn’t – expressing nothing was more painful than expressing something. But by the time he’d realized  _ that, _ he’d already forgotten how to communicate – and he paid the price for it with his sense of self.

Essentially a living husk, Victor doesn’t know how to live his life. The rope tying him to awareness has become threadbare – all he has left are his feelings for Hop and this existential dread that he doesn’t know what to do with.

And Hop is leaving.

“I – uh, congrats,” Victor stutters out after what seems like an eternity. Relieved, Hop smiles at him. Yet the uneasy feeling in Victor’s chest doesn’t subside – only growing stronger with Hop’s reaction. “How long will you be gone for?”

“Two years,” Hop says softly. “I’m leaving in a month. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”

If Victor’s world could shatter any more, he’s sure it would be crushed into dust by now. That burning feeling from his childhood seems to resonate in his chest – bitter and taunting him as if to say, “he’s really leaving you behind this time.”

“I – why didn’t you tell me earlier,” Victor says, his voice bordering on an accusatory tone. Hop has kept this secret for him for a while – and now he hardly has any time to prepare. He can’t take off a lot of work to spend time with Hop in his last few weeks in Galar. Two years apart –  _ two years. _ That’s two years of each other’s lives missed, hundreds of gaming sessions where Victor will just have to play by himself, and seven-hundred thirty days where Hop’s feet won’t be on Galar – where he won’t see that gummy smile and those pearly white teeth. Hop’s normally pleasant color grows more intense – bleeding into maroon at the center.

“And what would you have done? Stressed about it for months instead of focusing on the cup?” Hop retorts. “You need to take better care of yourself, and I knew if I told you, you would be all antsy up until the day I go.”

Hop is right – but that doesn’t make anything better, either.

“I would have liked – to spend more time with you before you left,” Victor says quietly, hoping Hop can’t hear the tremor in his voice. He digs his nails into his palms – knowing they’ll leave crescent-shaped indents when he finally releases – and does his best not to let any tears escape.

“Aren’t we spending time together now?” Hop asks, cocking his head. “Isn’t this enough?” He motions between the two of them – and Victor’s heart rears up like an Arbok’s, hissing and angry with Hop’s lack of consideration.

“It’s not,” Victor frowns. “I won’t get to see you for two years. That’s a lot of time.”

Hop sighs. “I should have known you’d say that. But I’m also not seeing you for two years – so it’s fair.”

“You won’t miss me as much,” Victor states, feeling venom bubble up in his throat. Hop looks at him with hardened eyes – as if there’s something that Victor can’t quite identify.

“I will miss you,” he insists. “You’re my best friend, Vic. How could I not?”

Victor tries not to listen to that jealous snake in his chest – but he can’t help himself. He knows Hop isn’t even his – he doesn’t even love Victor, or know Victor loves him – but it comes out anyway.

“I don’t know,” Victor shrugs. “You could meet someone there.”

Hop snorts, rolling his eyes. “And forget about you? No way. I’m not that superficial. I’ve known you my whole life – I wouldn’t ditch you for some person I met while doing research in a foreign country.”

“What if that person is really cute and you end up really liking them a lot? I mean – you could find a partner there. What if you don’t come back?” Victor babbles, regretting each word that spills out of his mouth. He sounds like an insecure, overprotective partner – but to Hop, he’s just a friend. It’s evident that Hop’s conflicted by his words as well – the maroon fades into bitter amaranth.

“I would return regardless,” Hop says, looking at him with soft eyes. “I have things here that I still need to attend to.”

Victor raises an eyebrow in curiosity, trying to fight the rising agony inside himself. “Mind elaborating?”

“You’re here,” Hop murmurs. Victor’s world in this moment feels like an origami ball – folding in on him with each passing second, weak and ready to collapse at even the slightest sign of rain or wind. After a few seconds of staring awkwardly at each other, Hop stutters out a few more reasons. “And my family is here. I’m not just gonna leave you alone – Galar is all I’ve ever known, after all. Plus, the whole purpose of me becoming a professor is to help improve the region I’ve always called home. I can’t just desert it after all this time.”

“I guess that’s comforting,” Victor mumbles. “Can I have a hug?”

Hop crawls down from his bed and closes the space between their bodies. When Hop places his hand on Victor’s waist, it ignites the brunette’s whole back. As the pair lean into each other, sizzling heat charges through Victor’s veins – leaving him with a melting ribcage and a hammering heart. His whole existence aches for the first time in a long while – as if his corpse is being set on fire while his soul is trapped underneath the rotting skin.

Victor hopes this is just a dream.

Unfortunately, when his eyes open, nothing has changed. Hop pulls away from their embrace first, pressing his lips into a taut line. Victor can’t read his expression, but in an odd way, it almost appears sad – as if there are still words left unsaid between them – as if a whole avenue is laying unexplored between their souls.

* * *

For the next few weeks in Victor’s dreams, he drifts into oblivion – darkness pressing at every part of his cavernous soul.

Oftentimes, the abyss feels welcoming – its cold hands kissing his skin as it carries him into a pitch-black sea. But it can be dreadful, too – coating his body with layers of ink that tug at his inner workings, draining his reserves of joy dry. In sleep, he’s not supposed to feel that ghastly weight – but it never seems to disappear, always lodging in his throat and surging into his chest. It’s as if something’s laying on top of him – but nothing’s ever there when he finally wakes.

Perhaps it’s a sign of sickness – a symptom of a slight cold, or stress, or exhaustion – but Victor has a feeling that it’s related to Hop’s departure. The day Hop leaves Galar is slowly creeping closer – and Victor is anything but prepared to say farewell to the person who brings him the most comfort.

Lost in sleep – in the space beneath his eyelids where light no longer reaches – Victor plummets. Twilight surrounds him, enveloping both the earth and sky – and everything becomes one; his thoughts sink like stones, resting at the bottom of an endless ocean.


	2. lilac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: panic attack

Victor has never been good with parties, nor has he ever excelled in understanding the aftermath. This is merely a fact of life – an axiom that not a single person can reject. Simply looking at him in a social setting will make even the densest people turn red in sheer second-hand embarrassment – or at least, that’s how it feels to him when he doesn’t know a single person at the party. Now he’s sitting alone in the bathroom at Leon’s party when he’s supposed to put on a brave face for Hop – bid him a happy farewell – but he can’t seem to muster even the smallest of smiles.

It’s pathetic, really – he can’t even face the person he’s adored for so long – the one who paved the path to Victor’s current position – who made him into the person he is. Victor is just hiding from the shame, choking on the emotions that he can’t seem to hold back as the music builds outside. Of course, he didn’t expect the experience to be a rollercoaster ride of feelings – seeing Hop smile and have fun is supposed to be joyful – but Victor can’t escape the pounding in his head that scratches at his skull and chases him into the bathroom. It’s some weird situation that he doesn’t know how to deal with – he’s supposed to be happy, seeing his best friend achieve his dreams. He’s a bad friend for even wanting to grieve his planned departure – but that’s why Hop will inevitably find someone to replace him with when he moves away. He’ll be left alone like he always is – and the Victor behind the cape will be forgotten.

When Hop leaves him, the only memento he’ll have of his humanity is his journal detailing the colors he sees – and even then, who will recognize him for the person he truly is anymore? Behind his title, he’s just a child in an adult’s body – trapped in Hop’s childhood dream, without any thoughts for the future, without understanding others, without even a second to relax, and no one to hold.

Victor is alone.

An awkward knock rings out and Victor can hear someone at the bathroom door. He nearly feels bad for keeping it occupied – but it’s better than crying while trying to hide his face with his beanie while he stands in the corner of the room. 

“Hey! Some of us need to pee, you know!” Bea’s voice comes muffled from the other side.

Without thinking, he responds, his face wrenching in frustration.

“I’m on my period!”

There’s a silence, and then a quiet response.

“Take as much time as you need, sweetie,” she says. He can hear her footsteps as she slowly steps away from the door – and Victor buries his face in his hands and lets the tears roll down his face freely.

Now everyone probably knows just how  _ low  _ he is – the champion, alone in the bathroom at a party. His sister is making out with Marnie somewhere, and Hop is surrounded by his loved ones, all of whom are bidding him farewell as he celebrates his next step in his journey. It’s unlikely that Hop has even  _ thought _ about Victor – they haven’t even been chatting since their kind-of fight earlier that month. Hop hadn’t even seen Victor as important enough to tell him about leaving in the first place – so if Victor doesn’t show up to say goodbye now, then it’s likely he won’t even care.

His heart thrashes in his chest so harshly that it rocks his whole body – and he’s left dry heaving over the toilet. As his sickness grows, all he can think about is how he shouldn't have had those drinks, he shouldn’t have come to this party – he shouldn’t have made the mistake of showing up in the first place. His blood vessels feel as if they’re on fire, and his heart seems to be going at a hundred thousand miles per second – and it hurts so  _ badly. _

Victor wants to be more for his friends – wants to be heard for who he really is and not the mask he wears. But when Hop leaves, there won’t be anyone to see his true self anymore – and Victor will go back to hiding every single emotion in his diaries and notebooks. Everyone will see him as stone-cold again – he won’t be able to cry freely without others questioning him. He appears to have  _ everything _ , after all – a champion title, a good pay, loving friends. But yet he has no way to express himself – to understand himself and others. He’s not ungrateful for what he has – he loves his friends, his family, Hop – but if Hop goes like Gloria did, who will translate the melodies in his heart into hymns that everyone else can hear? 

A loud bang at the door makes him flinch, shaking him out of his thoughts. Victor can’t stay in here forever – he needs to calm down, but the angry thump-thump-thump shakes the whole room. If anything, the noise makes him even more nervous – synchronizing with the dreadful beating of his heart, drumming at his sanity. Victor mumbles something about being out soon and crawls toward the sink to splash some water on his face.

Cold, eye-opening, freezing his brain’s systems in place – that’s how the first burst of aqua feels. Victor slowly raises his head to look at himself in the mirror – sure, maybe his bangs are slightly damp from the water and his eyes are puffy and red, but at least the tears aren’t flowing anymore. If he were to be honest, though – the person he sees in his reflection is hardly fitting of being the Champion of Galar, much less Hop’s best friend. No, wait – he can’t afford to think of those things now. He has to get out before people get suspicious – if they aren’t already.

The door is right there. Victor wipes his face with his sleeve and unlocks it – stepping outside reluctantly. Surprisingly, no one notices him slipping out of the bathroom and away from the crowd – as if he was never even there in the first place. It’s fitting for someone like him, who’s bound to blend in no matter what – who truly has nothing special about him. 

Pathetic. Pathetic.  _ Pathetic. _ How useless can he become – fallen so far from grace?

“Victor?”

A voice rings out, stopping him in his tracks. Fuck. He’s been noticed.

Victor turns on his heel, an excuse for leaving on the tip of his tongue – but he’s not expecting to see a concerned Hop looking back at him, aura dyed periwinkle in muted anguish.

“I’ve been looking for you the whole night! Where were you, mate?” Hop grins at him without a worry in sight – and Victor feels dull guilt settle in his stomach. How selfish of him to be upset – it’s not like Hop will be gone forever, he tries to remind himself. But that inescapable feeling of doom washes over him anyway – and Victor’s facade cracks from the inside out.

“Ah…” Victor hadn’t really thought of an excuse for his absence should he encounter Hop. He shifts his weight onto his right foot, staring down at the floor in an attempt to avoid eye contact “I had a stomach ache. I think I drank too much.”

As his eyes flick back up to Hop’s face, the other man nods in understanding. “Do you feel better now?” he asks, taking a few steps toward Victor. When Victor doesn’t flinch or move away, he swings an arm around Victor’s shoulders, shooting a grin down at the shorter man.

“I’m alright,” Victor says. Almost instantly, Hop’s face drops into a frown, observing Victor’s expression with the intensity of a hungry Snorlax. Victor knows Hop can tell he’s been crying – deciphering every line in Victor’s face and every movement he makes.

“This party kinda blows,” Hop says suddenly. Victor startles at the statement – how can he say that? It’s a party for him, after all – thrown by Leon – and he certainly  _ seemed _ to be enjoying it earlier.

“Don’t lie,” Victor snorts playfully, nudging Hop’s ribs with his elbow. “Dude, you’ve got like three days left in Galar, and I bet this is the most fun you’ve had all month.”

“I mean,  _ sure, _ ” Hop says, pursing his lips. “But there’s a lot of things I’d rather be doing before I go.”

“Like what?” Victor asks, trying not to stare at Hop’s mouth for too long.

“Playing video games with my best friend and then having a sleepover where we chat for hours on end,” Hop says, beaming at him. Somehow, it almost feels as if Hop is staring straight through him – as if Victor isn’t even there.

It’s a numbing, soul-crushing feeling.

“I… We could do that, if you want,” Victor sighs, unable to resist Hop’s charms regardless of their emptiness. Relenting seems like the only option sometimes – his heart is heavy and his world is falling apart. Victor blinks away the beginnings of his tears and peers up at Hop through his bangs.

Hop smiles at him, this one true – and oh, Victor’s whole existence is melting. His brain doesn’t know how to react to those sparkling golden eyes – he doesn’t know if he should smile back or hug him. But his heart is screaming at him to  _ kiss _ Hop’s perfectly pink lips – and Victor unconsciously straightens his back as Hop leans into Victor.

“That would be nice,” Hop whispers. Victor can feel Hop’s breath on his face at this distance – they’re so close but  _ so far apart  _ – and Hop is so blatantly drunk that Victor can smell the alcohol on him. Victor shouldn’t – Victor can’t take advantage of this situation.

“You’re too close,” he tries to say – but his words come out high-pitched and nervous. 

“Am I?” Hop asks, his tone borderline teasing. Victor frowns. Normally, Hop wouldn’t be able to work up the nerve to flirt with a single person – he’s definitely more wasted than Victor thought before. Already frustrated, Victor attempts to change the subject.

“When do you want to hang out?” he asks, gently nudging Hop’s face away from his own with his open palm. “Also, you smell gross – don’t breathe on me like that.”

“Tonight? Tomorrow? Both?” Hop suggests, ignoring Victor’s other comment. “You could help me pack. Stay with me ‘till I go and send me off.”

“That’s tempting,” Victor admits.

“I’ll cook for you,” Hop offers, eyes glinting with that all-knowing light.

“Fine,” he says.

Hop’s reaction is unbearably adorable, his golden eyes lighting up as he does a half-drunken victory dance. Victor is suddenly aware of how thick the air feels on this summer night, and his heart seems to beat in time with the loud background music. He presses his lips into a thin line as Hop takes him by the wrist, worried that his friend can feel his pulse quicken at the touch.

But if Hop notices, he doesn’t say a single word. 

* * *

Victor ends up staying late and watching everyone party – and if he were honest, he would admit that the event was borderline enjoyable. Marnie and Gloria make out on the sofa, Bede pole dances while screaming obscenities, Piers teaches Allister how to sing the screamo parts in his latest songs, and Milo won’t stop flirting with the potted geranium on the windowsill. Victor records it all on his Rotom – it’s likely that Raihan’s videos are out of focus because he always gets super crunk – and stores it away to make fun of them all later.

It’s too bad that Rotom can’t record the colors of their souls, too – because the picture isn’t even half as pretty without it. Gloria blazes scarlet, and Marnie emits ornate grey. Whenever Gloria touches the other girl, her soul burns into pastel pink before fizzling out – and in a way, it’s hypnotic to watch. On the other hand, Piers’s aura is persistent – an infectious purple and black pattern that occasionally creeps into other people’s colors. Together, the whole room is a multicolored mesh of pure emotion – so bright it’s almost loud enough to scare his soul alive again.

But no matter how vivid he feels inside, Victor’s own aura never seems to show.

* * *

When Victor wakes up, he’s sprawled out on Hop’s bedroom floor – still wearing last night’s clothes. Disgust is the first feeling that surges through him – he feels grimy as if his hair is in desperate need of a wash. Galar summers are hotter than hellfire – only worsening his awareness of the damp warmth on the small of his back. It doesn’t help that his morning breath is tainted with that bitter scent.

Sighing, Victor rises to his feet – his vision blurring and the world spinning at the sudden rush of blood away from his head. The slightest movement makes the whole front half of his brain throb – definitely a sign of dehydration, Victor notes. Even so, Victor stumbles toward the bathroom just down the hall – feeling his cerebrum scream for water with each step.

Entering the tiny room reminds him of the breakdown he had the previous day – and it’s almost enough to make him turn on his heel and leave. But his body aches and he seriously needs to pee, so instead of running away, he simply locks the door behind him. The unsettling atmosphere seems to slip into his psyche, but like all humans, Victor has needs, and he’s not about to ignore them.

When he’s done, he scrubs his hands until they turn red from all the rubbing and the pads of his fingers are wrinkly and peeling – and even then, Victor doesn’t feel clean. Regardless, Victor gives his hands one good shake and somehow exits without a single tear or self-deprecating thought escaping.

By the time Victor returns to Hop’s room, his crush is standing near their bags, holding a shirt and sweatpants in his hands. It doesn’t take much for Victor to recognize them as the old pair he’d left at Hop’s house a few months back. There must be some recognition reflected in his eyes, because Hop takes a step forward and offers the clothes to him without a single word, that lavender hue bouncing as he moves.

“Thanks,” Victor says, but it comes out dry and crackly, like fireworks on asphalt.

Hop raises his eyebrows at the sound of Victor’s voice. “Do you need anything to drink? Water? A cup of tea, maybe?”

“Water would be nice,” Victor grins. Moving his lips causes the dried-out skin on top of it to crack, and he can taste iron on his tongue when he wets them again. He should probably shower – but he also needs a drink to relieve his headache – but he smells gross – but his brain is shriveling and screaming –

Something cold and wet brushes against his fingers – and Victor glances down to see what it is. Victor’s heart surges when he realizes Hop already has a glass of water ready for him. It’s almost as if Hop can read his mind – though that’s a silly thought. The glass is fresh, and the ice cubes that float in the clear liquid haven’t melted together yet. Raising the glass to his lips, Victor takes a long sip – feeling his parched throat grow less scratchy by the second.

“You must have been thirsty,” Hop muses with a smile when Victor hands him the empty glass back. His voice has that teasing lilt to it, the one that makes Victor’s whole existence tremble in sheer infatuation – but this time, it makes Victor feel more bitter than anything else.

“Thanks,” Victor says, ignoring Hop’s comment. “I’m gonna use your shower if that’s okay?”

“Sure,” Hop says. “Sorry I didn’t wake you up earlier – I wanted to get some paperwork done and I didn’t want to bore you.”

Victor shrugs. He supposes that waking up late is better than waking up early and doing nothing as he watches his best friend fill out forms – but any time spent alone with Hop is time spent well. Victor needs to charge up if he wants to survive for two years without him – or at least attempt to, anyway. 

“It’s fine,” Victor says, looking at his feet. “I was tired, anyway.”

He supposes that a long rest after weeping over a toilet for an hour can’t hurt anyone. Either way, Victor needs to shower and maybe feel a little bit less disgusting externally – though no amount of scrubbing will make his forsaken heart any purer.

The water is lukewarm, but at least it’s not scalding hot or frigid like Circhester Bay. Of course, he’s alone again – but somehow, he doesn’t feel lonely like he was at the party. He doesn’t hate seeing others having fun and messing around. but when he’s surrounded by people who don’t even pause to look at him, he feels so small. Microscopic, even. Perhaps that’s just his self-consciousness talking – he’s never been good at socializing or making friends like Hop, and getting along with others is something Victor’s always wanted to do himself. 

Still, being alone with Hop is different – when they’re alone Victor can smile and laugh and chat like nothing’s wrong at all. And during his Gym Challenge, he could handle his own in a group of four or five – but there were at least twenty people at the party, which is a  _ lot _ of people, even if he’s friends with them all. Victor seems to falter in larger groups – it’s a counterintuitive sort of instinct, one that doesn’t really have a reason outside of pure social anxiety.

It sucks.

Victor turns off the water and dries his hair with the towel Hop lent him. As he tugs on his shirt, he can’t help but notice his clothes smell like lavender-scented laundry detergent – like the kind Hop uses. Both comfort and warmth wash over him, feeding into the fuzzy feeling in his chest. Surrounded by the scent of Hop’s clothes, Victor wraps his arms around himself in an effort to mimic a hug – but it’s not enough to distract him from the impending doom.

He doesn’t really want Hop to go, but he can’t force Hop to stay in Galar. Years ago, Victor pried one dream from Hop’s trembling hands – he has no right to steal away another. He can’t stand in Hop’s way anymore – he wants to stand by Hop’s side, hand in hand, until Hop’s colors wash over his skin and seep into his pores. Hop has always supported Victor, even though Victor is hardly worthy of support from Hop, even though Victor doesn’t even know what he’s trying to achieve, even though Hop is blissfully unaware of how much Victor loves him.

Slinking down the stairs takes up almost all of Victor’s energy, but when he reaches the ground floor and a sweet aroma hits his face, his exhaustion seems to fall away. Instead, his stomach growls and his eyes dart around the kitchen area, finally landing on the stack of pancakes. No pancake is the same size, and the stack is more like a pile than anything else – but Victor knows just how delicious Hop’s cooking is, and his whole body seems to scream with delight.

“Hey,” Hop says. Victor’s eyes flicker to Hop, taking in each of his features as he tries to search for a proper response. Before he can find the right words, Hop cracks an awkward smile. “The food will get cold if you keep standing around,” he states.

Victor doesn’t waste any more time, sliding into the seat across from Hop. Having already eaten his share, Hop watches Victor dig into his meal. Hop observes Victor so keenly that his gaze is borderline unnerving – and the silence begins to slowly drift from comfortable to agonizing.

Halfway through his third pancake, Victor can’t take it anymore. Hop’s stare feels… wanting, almost, and too terse for comfort, as if there are things left unsaid between them. Victor places down his utensils with a loud clatter, raising his head with a sigh. “What are you doing,” Victor asserts with a frown. “Is there something on my face?”

“No, it’s just…” Hop purses his lips, as if stopping himself from continuing his sentence. Victor watches carefully as Hop’s aura turns into a muddy brown. “Agh, this may sound weird, but… I was thinking about what to pack my bags with, so I was zoning out..”

“And that’s why you’re watching me eat so intently,” Victor deadpans, looking at Hop through narrowed eyes. “You’re not very good at lying.”

“Okay, fine,” Hop sighs, his shoulders slumping as his aura begins to clear up again. “I just… I’m gonna miss you a lot, Vic. More than you’ll ever know. I know leaving was my decision, but I still… I won’t stop thinking about you, you know. Even if we’re miles apart, I’ll always care about you.”

Victor’s bitterness falters, and he can’t seem to meet Hop’s eyes as all of his resentment melts into a painful longing. Something within him is bubbling up, something almost indescribable in nature: dreadful but laced with so much hope his tear ducts burn in anticipation. Victor forces himself not to blink, instead staring wide-eyed at his unfinished plate of food.

“I… I’m glad,” he manages when he’s sure his voice isn’t going to tremble. “I’m really… I worried that you wouldn’t come back.”

“I will return, I promise,” Hop affirms, his words solid and unmoving. “You… Galar is everything to me. And I can’t leave you here by yourself. I mean, what would the Champion do without his number one rival?”

“You’re right,” Victor murmurs, a faint grin dancing on his lips. “Life without you is pretty boring, after all.”

Hop hums in agreement, a lilac song swirling around him. Victor can almost taste the glee in the air – like stardust sprinkled onto his tongue, spontaneous and sweet. Perhaps everything will be okay even if Victor can’t see Hop in person every month. They can still message each other and call; they can still maintain their friendship even if there’s an ocean between them. And even if it is difficult, it’s only two years.

Right?


	3. chartreuse

“You really didn’t have to help me pack,” Hop says sheepishly.

Victor grunts in acknowledgment as he carefully rearranges Hop’s items for the eighth time – maximizing the volume of Hop’s suitcase. Living somewhere for two years is much different from vacationing, and as much as Hop is a reliable trainer, he’s always been the messiest in their friend group. Even as an adult, Hop leaves clothes strewn everywhere and his sheets in a pile in the middle of his bed. Victor, on the other hand, is fairly good at organizing his bag – probably due to his habit of picking up literally everything he finds that might be of importance. With Victor’s help, Hop’s clothes go from taking up three suitcases to one, leaving him with a total of two suitcases and one carry-on. 

“I don’t know how you do it,” Hop admits to him when Victor’s finished stuffing the bags to the brim. “All of this, I mean. You really are amazing.”

“Oh, hush,” Victor huffs, feeling his cheeks burn. “It’s the least I can do for someone who’s important to me.”

To say Hop is important to him would be an understatement, Victor bitterly reminds himself – he’s sure he can’t forget about his feelings so soon after he’s come to accept that they’re definitely there. Even Victor’s own face tingles whenever he looks at Hop for a second too long – a perfect sign of his still flowering crush on Hop.

Hop sighs, eyes fixed on Victor’s back as he zips up the suitcases. “You know, Vic, I really don’t wanna leave this place.”

“It’s a bit too late to change your mind, don’t you think?” Victor chuckles, his words feeling hollow. “As much as I want you to stay, you know I couldn’t ask that of you.”

“You could,” Hop says softly. 

Victor turns toward the other boy. Hop’s face is forlorn – his eyes unwavering, as if he’s peering into Victor’s soul.

“I’d stay if you wanted me to,” Hop whispers, staring at Victor as if he built the world brick by brick. “Do you want me to?”

Victor’s heart skips a beat – but seeing Hop’s tenacity falter reminds him of the problem at hand. “I couldn’t make you do that,” he murmurs. “I want you to follow your dreams.”

Hop looks up at him, furrowing his brow. “I really want to be able to support you and everyone else, you know. It’ll be hard to do that from Kalos.”

“Yeah,” Victor says, feeling a little woozy. Hearing Hop say that he wants to be by his side is emotional whiplash. He supposes their friendship wouldn’t be able to last if Hop didn’t want to see him at all, but it’s still jarring to hear Hop become so sentimental so suddenly. “But you can still message me. It won’t be that big of a deal.”

“I sure hope it won’t be an issue,” Hop sighs, flopping onto his bed. He avoids hitting the suitcase with his foot as he does so, careful not to bump the large bag off the foot of his bed.

“It’ll be fine,” Victor insists against his better judgement. “I’m sure everything will be.”

Hop smiles, and Victor doesn’t understand why it feels as if his whole life is blazing past him.

* * *

Victor ends up tagging along for the taxi ride to the airport just so that he can spend as much time as possible with Hop. He knows that he has to say goodbye to his friend eventually, but he still dreads parting ways with Hop. They both know that they won’t see each other for a long time after Hop boards his flight to Kalos – so Victor has to savor every moment he can possibly grasp.

“Y’know, Hop,” Victor says as the taxi pulls into the drop-offs area, “I’m really going to miss seeing you every month.”

“I know,” Hop responds. “I’m going to miss you too.”

“Promise you’ll text me and call me like normal?” Victor asks.

“I plan on it,” Hop says, “but no promises. I might have some stuff to organize when I land.”

“That’s okay,” Victor says. “Whenever you’re ready – I’ll be waiting.”

Hop stares at him for a few seconds, taking in every divot of Victor’s design. As if he’s committing Victor’s entire being into his long-term memory, Hop closes his eyes for a few seconds. When he opens them, he pulls Victor into a long-overdue embrace – squeezing all the air out of the shorter man’s lungs. “Bye, Vic. I’ll see you later,” he whispers, opening the taxi door.

“Goodbye,” Victor replies as Hop steps out. He watches as the taxi driver unloads the two suitcases from the trunk, already feeling lost without his best friend by his side. Hop waves to him as he walks toward the entrance of the airport – and Victor musters his best smile as he mouths his farewells.

It hurts.

The ride back to Wyndon is dreadful. In fact, it’s one of the worst things Victor has ever experienced in his entire life. The sudden absence of his best friend, the chill of the air so high above the ground, and the feelings of dread that always come with the sight of the Rose Tower, all in a single sitting – all of it accumulates in his abdomen like thick, black sludge.

By the time Victor bids the taxi farewell, he isn’t sure if he can make it from the end of his driveway to the front entrance. All of his senses are buzzing – and not the low humming that comes with liquor, but one of existential dread. His head spins with each unsure step he takes, and he can feel his clothing weighing him down as if the fabric were drenched. The howl of the wind, the chirping of bird Pokemon – every noise feels amplified by a thousand times, pressing against his eardrums.

He hardly makes it into his home before he collapses to his knees, wheezing. It takes him a good ten or so minutes to collect himself, and even then, his chest feels tight. Victor makes sure not to look at the walls adorned with framed photos of the past – he’s sure that those snapshots will only send him into another odd mood.

This will be a long two years.

* * *

For the next few days, Victor manages to distract himself by training aggressively. His texts with Hop are far and few – and much less frequent than they were before Hop’s trip. Victor bitterly recounts their promise to keep in touch with each other, and then remembers that Hop will probably be busy for the first few days – after all, Kalos is an entirely new region.

Their first few messages consist of Hop panicking about the one-hour time difference. Victor isn’t  _ too _ concerned about timezones at first – a single hour doesn’t seem drastic. He recalls feeling quite lonely while he visited his hometown back in Floaroma, which is eight hours ahead of Galar – but a single hour is nothing in comparison.

Now, however, as Victor lays in bed, he realizes that Hop  _ may  _ have been right about the severity of a single-hour time difference. For the fifth day in a row, he’s wide awake with nothing to do for a whole  _ hour _ . When Hop was still in Galar, their schedules aligned perfectly – but with Hop heading to sleep an hour earlier, Victor is left staring at the ceiling during his designated texting time with Hop. 

No notifications. No “goodnights”. Only silence.

Alone.

Victor knows the meaning of loneliness too well. He doesn’t have to be by himself to feel lonely, but physical isolation only makes his sense of longing more acute. Dragging himself out of loneliness is a chore, but it’s easier when others are around. At least Hop’s party had people to talk with. 

The outer world feels inaccessible to Victor. Even though he does try to keep up with his friends, social interaction feels exhausting – and after a long day of battle, Victor hardly has the energy to pay attention to more than one chat. He  _ cares  _ – he really does. He loves his mother, his sister, his friends – but sometimes he looks at his phone and its hundreds of notifications and just  _ can’t. _ Even so, Victor  _ wants _ to reach out,  _ wants _ to talk more to those he cares about – but he simply doesn’t have the motivation to, and his lack of willpower is becoming his undoing.

His eyes feel dry even as he blinks away tears. His vision still blurry, Victor glances at the clock on his nightstand – only fifteen minutes left until he typically heads to bed. He doesn’t have anything to do – this hour-long block is always reserved for late-night calls with Hop. But Hop keeps going to bed before Victor could even send him a “hey” – and it makes Victor realize that he’s overly dependent on his friend.

_ It’s not fair for me to rely on him for such minimal things _ , Victor thinks.  _ I should just try to get some extra sleep. _

With a sigh, Victor reaches over and turns off his bedside lamp. He lets his eyes flutter shut, and does his best not to think about his breathing. He rests on his back – then on his left side, and then his right. No position feels comfortable, and Victor just feels  _ wrong. _ Perhaps Victor relied too much on his conversations with Hop to wind down before bed, and now he simply can’t fall asleep.

Eventually, Victor’s eyes adjust to the darkness, and he finds himself staring at the ceiling again. Without Hop, Victor feels incapable of even the smallest things. Hop was the one who lulled him into a positive mood late at night. Hop was the one who motivated Victor to look presentable on a daily basis. Hop was the one who reminded him to eat and to drink water via texts throughout the day – and now Hop is simply too busy and too far for any of that.

That night, Victor doesn't get much sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> since i have limited internet access, chapters will be spaced out, and i will not be able to respond to comments as quick as i used to. regardless, i sincerely appreciate it if you do comment or leave kudos on this fic.


	4. ultramarine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: gender dysphoria, body dysmorphia

Victor takes a deep breath, using his diaphragm to stretch his lungs to their fullest state. The locker room’s mirror reflects a version of himself he’s not quite sure he likes. His shirt clings to his shoulders and chest in a way that makes him look almost too skinny. He looks over his biceps with a bitter taste in his mouth – no matter what he does, he can’t seem to build up the amount of muscle mass that he wants. With a sigh, Victor heaves the red cloak over his shoulders.

Checking the mirror again, Victor feels a little less self-conscious of his body. He turns his body to the left while keeping his eyes on his reflection, smoothing down his chest with a quick swipe. It’s not quite flat enough for him, but he can’t wear a binder during battles. If he wants to make sure he dodges every single stray attack without wearing himself out, there’s no way he can don an apparatus that puts pressure on his lungs. He needs all the oxygen he can possibly get, and that simply can’t happen with a binder.

Even so, Victor still wishes that he could wear one. Wearing a binder during battle wouldn’t be safe in the slightest for him, but if it was, he’d definitely jump at the opportunity. But he made the decision to take off his binder before battles on his own terms, for his own health – and he isn’t about to change his mind. It is tempting to throw all caution to the wind and just bind regardless of the danger, but Victor knows better not to. He resists that urge each time he goes into a serious battle – and he can’t just give into it now.

He can’t help but stare down at his chest before walking out onto the field – is it too big? What if people notice? What if his outfit malfunctions? Victor goes through the barrage of questions in his head, giving himself reasonable answers for all of them.  _ I’m lucky that I don’t have a large chest compared to others. No one has noticed before, especially since I wear a sports bra and high-necked clothing. My outfit is literally a shirt and shorts, and it probably won’t malfunction unless I get hit by a stray attack. The reason I’m wearing what I am right now is mobility because wearing a binder would wear me out quicker and make me slower to dodge stray attacks. My worries are understandable, but I can’t let them control me. _

Victor thanks that one year of therapy for keeping his gender dysphoria under control and steps into the stadium. The crowd roars at the sight of their champion of five years, showering him with applause. A smile brews on Victor’s face as his body visibly relaxes, waving at those in the front rows as he walks to the center of the field to meet his opponent. His heart beats with anticipation as Kabu’s crow-footed eyes catch his.

“Victor! I’ll make sure to unleash the full potential of my Pokemon this time!” Kabu shouts over the cheers. “I won’t lose!”

“We’ll see about that,” Victor smirks, matching his vigor. “I won’t hold back!”

Kabu sends out Torkoal first, the sheer heat of its presence making the stadium grow uncomfortably arid. Victor can feel the temperature rising and the humidity dropping as Torkoal seems to stare him straight in the eye – waiting for Victor to send out his Pokemon. Victor’s first slot is his trusty Inteleon, who hops out of his ball without being told. Despite its type disadvantage, Kabu’s Torkoal appears unfazed as always – it stands unmoving as Inteleon stretches his lanky limbs.

The gym leader flicks his wrist. A spray of black, wispy smoke erupts from Torkoal’s nose, creating a smokescreen. Victor watches as Inteleon rolls his eyes and shoots a thin beam of water straight through the darkness with his finger, piercing the hazy surroundings without any issue. It hits Torkoal head-on, forcing a pained wail out of the Coal Pokemon. Even so, it remains on its feet, still huffing. There’s no sign of worry on Kabu’s face, however – only a shining determination.

Suddenly, the Pokemon dashes forward, its body steaming-hot. Victor registers the move as Heat Crash almost immediately and calls for Inteleon to blast the Pokemon with a close-range Hydro Pump. Inteleon presses his finger to Torkoal’s shell and lets loose, spraying water everywhere as the attack tears through Torkoal’s defenses.

Victor’s heart races as Kabu sends out Ninetales – but Inteleon, still smug from its past win, doesn’t seem to remember Ninetales’s favorite coverage move. Kabu’s lips form the words “Solar Beam” as Victor frantically commands his Pokemon to dodge. The charge time is lower than Inteleon expects, and as it darts out of the way, the beam clips Inteleon’s tail. Inteleon hisses and instinctively reacts with a Snipe Shot, spearing Ninetales with water. 

The fox-like Pokemon growls and retaliates with another beam, this time catching Inteleon off guard with its speedy recovery and excited dashing. With spite in its eyes, it pulls off a Quick Attack, taking Inteleon out. The cheers grow louder, and Victor feels his whole soul surge with heated adrenaline. Victor watches the hot air spin the remnants of Torkoal’s smoke into tiny spirals, resting his hand on Excadrill’s Poke Ball.

Excadrill manages to finish off Ninetales with an Earthquake, and Kabu sends out Arcanine, who immediately charges toward Excadrill. Arcanine inundates Excadrill in flames, ignoring the rocks digging into it and the ground trembling beneath it. The dog-like Pokemon falls first, but Excadrill topples soon after. 

Salazzle is Kabu’s next Pokemon, and Victor defaults to Toxtricity. Both Pokemon excitedly chase each other on all fours – happy to see each other again. They’d bonded after a long training session together – and Victor can’t help but feel a little nostalgic.

“Alright, you two, break it up,” Victor laughs. “We’re here to battle today.”

Toxtricity springs to his feet, and Salazzle reluctantly slides into a fighting stance. Salazzle is the faster of the two, however, and quickly spits out a Dragon Pulse. Toxtricity dodges without being told, his electric spines spiking.

“Charge forward!” Victor commands. Toxtricity darts toward Salazzle, hastily rushing toward her. The other Pokemon freezes, startled. “Overdrive!”

Toxtricity strums the protrusions on his chest, electricity flowing through soundwaves. Salazzle hisses in shock and sticks out her tongue in mock anger.

“Use Foul Play!” Kabu shouts, taking advantage of the short distance between the Pokemon.

Salazzle kicks dust into Toxtricity’s eyes, blinding him. She jumps toward Toxtricity with ease, giving him a few good kicks. On her fourth kick, however, Toxtricity sends an electric shock up the Pokemon’s leg. She yelps in pain, letting out a tiny fireball.

_ Is this a sibling squabble or a serious fight? _ Victor thinks, watching the two begin to wrestle. He glances toward Kabu in apprehension, but the Gym Leader doesn’t seem alarmed by the change in tone. After a few minutes, the two seem to remember that they’re in the middle of an official match – and immediately start to  _ actually duel _ , without either trainer needing to utter an order.

With a fourth Overdrive, Toxtricity is able to force Salazzle out of the battle. Victor watches Kabu utter a few motivational words to his Centiskorch’s ball before sending him out.

“We’ll burn bright together!” Kabu shouts as he prepares to Gigantimax his ace. The Pokemon's body distorts and distends, lengthening as he's filled with a new power

Toxtricity, watching his opponent grow larger and larger in size, looks back at Victor nervously, as if asking for permission to be the one to Gigantimax this battle.

“You wanna?” Victor asks. “Are you sure?”

Toxtricity nods excitedly, and Victor returns him to his ball. Despite its increased size, the ball feels as light as air – making it easy for Victor to hurl his Pokemon onto the field. Victor watches as purple lightning crackles around Toxtricity’s head, nervous to proceed, but still willing to command.

“Let’s go for a G-Max Stun Shock!” Victor yells over the crowd. Using his left hand, Toxtricity harnesses the electricity on his back and sends it flying toward the sky. Toxic clouds blot out the previously sunny sky, sending the normally bright stadium into a mauve haze. Victor’s skin prickles, but he can’t tell if it’s due to the static in the air or the heat bursting in his heart.

“Quick, G-Max Centiferno!” Kabu shouts. A wheel of flame erupts from Centiskorch’s markings, igniting the soot-filled air exhaled by Torkoal. Victor just barely jumps out of the way of the explosion, the fire singeing his bangs. He catches a whiff of burnt hair, scrunching his nose in disgust before turning back to the battle. 

In their enlarged states, neither Pokemon can dodge their opponent’s attacks – and neither of them seem keen to do so anyway. Toxtricity hisses as flames circle him, but it isn’t nearly as bad as the case of poisoning that he landed on Centiskorch. With Toxtricity thoroughly enraged, Victor calls for it to try a Max Lightning – though he probably doesn’t need to, with the Pokemon already striking Centiskorch down.

Kabu dramatically falls to his knees as his Pokemon shrinks – Victor thinks he should probably stop if he doesn’t want his arthritis to worsen – and says something about striving to defeat Victor in another battle. But Victor is already searching through the crowd – frantically trying to find  _ someone. _ He scans the front-row seats for Hop, who always smiles at him whenever he wins, who comes to every single official match Victor participates in – but he’s  _ not there. _ The seats Victor reserves for Hop and Cinderace are empty, sending an ominous dread straight through Victor’s chest.

And then Victor remembers that they’re gone.

Victor tears his gaze away from the empty seats, forcing a smile that normally comes so naturally when Hop is there. With him in Kalos, Victor’s battles just don’t  _ end right _ – there are no exchanged smiles, or locker room conversations, or post-win celebrations – just that lonely, sinking feeling.

The air feels cold on the back of his neck as he shakes Kabu’s hand. It feels as if the knowledge that Hop isn’t in attendance is enough to make the heat of the battle turn frozen. Victor turns away from everything feeling empty and unsatisfied. Dazed, Victor makes his way back into the locker room, hardly registering each step. When he comes to again, he finds himself in front of the mirror again, cape pinned carefully to hide the flesh mounds on his chest.

He forgets how to breathe for a second.

Hop is usually the one who distracts him from his dysphoria post-battle, but with him all the way in Kalos, Victor doesn’t have the privilege of conversing with his best friend in person. Victor closes his eyes and forces himself to walk back to his locker instead of focusing on how he  _ doesn’t look right. _ It takes him almost no time to change back into his regular clothes, which alleviates most of the terrible feelings brought by his reflection.

“I miss him,” Victor voices shakily. Inteleon, the only one out of his Poke Ball, looks at Victor with a worried frown. “I can’t believe… I relied on him this much. I’m so stupid, Inteleon.”

The Pokemon glares at him, clicking his tongue in disagreement. Inteleon shakes his head violently before pinching Victor’s cheek as if to reprimand him for being self-deprecating. 

“Hey,” Victor says, “Was I really that dependent on him?”

Inteleon blinks a few times before shaking his head. Victor squints at his Pokemon, doing his best to see the colors surrounding Inteleon. His aura is a cool blue, only a few shades deeper than the primary tone on his body. In contrast to humans’ free-flowing colors, Inteleon’s calming shades stick to its form like most Pokemon.

“You know, you’re so hard to read,” Victor sighs, plopping down on the bench next to his starter. “I wish you could speak the same language as I do, but I suppose that’s an unfulfillable request.”

Inteleon nods, but he traces a smiley face on Victor’s skin with his pointer finger as if to say it’s okay that Victor can’t understand him.

“I feel like crap, and I don’t really wanna deal with the media today,” Victor sighs. “I’m just really tired. Maybe I’ll just tell them that Kabu’s battle really tuckered me out so I don’t have to talk much.”

He glances at Inteleon, who pats Victor’s shoulder with his tail.

“Let’s go home,” Victor says, getting up slowly. “I need to stop thinking about him so much, and sitting around here isn’t going to help at all.”

Victor doesn’t catch Inteleon’s concerned expression.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trans victor :)


	5. midnight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new post from new laptop...i got a new computer for my birthday yesterday (august 17) and im gay af so yeehaw. short chapter since im depressed and i needed wholesome shit.

Lumiose City is a place of sprawling streets and white lights that burn bright even at night. As the most populated city in the world, it allows for a 24/7 life. Even diurnal Pokemon tend to live a more nocturnal life if their habitat is located in the city’s vicinity – and Hop is here to study the effects of artificial light on urban Pokemon populations.

And yet, instead of conducting field studies or researching the locale, Hop finds himself invested in a fantasy that is too far out of his reach. There are no requirements when it comes to personal investigation – especially when Sycamore blatantly told him to “explore the area, enjoy yourself a little bit.” Sonia would be pissed if he wasn’t taking advantage of an opportunity to rest – but even as he strolls down the streets, Hop feels his intestines tie themselves into knots.

It’s likely a side effect of Victor’s luminosity – so bright in the corner of his mind; a concept that he can’t erase. Victor, no matter how far away he is right now, is always,  _ always _ on Hop’s mind – a permanent memory. Whether it’s an advertisement of Victor’s favorite shampoo, or the scent of curry, or the sight of that signature red polo, Hop’s mind always returns to thoughts of his best friend.

Hop visits restaurants where he battles for his seat, and thinks of doing doubles with Victor. The sight and smell of fresh galettes makes Hop want to share some of them with Victor. He witnesses tourists taking couple photos and  _ seriously wants Victor to be there too. _ He does a  _ lot _ of people-watching – and ends up imagining what it would be like if Victor were here with him.

And for some reason, Hop can feel his heart thrumming in his chest whenever he sees Victor’s large smile broadcast on television. There’s no way Hop could forget about Victor, even if Victor expects Hop to stop thinking about him. 

Dubwool bleats loudly from the foot of his hotel bed. Hop looks at his fluffy companion, pulled out of his reminiscence. 

“Is something wrong, buddy?” Hop asks, reaching over to scratch behind Dubwool’s ears. “I know we’re pretty far from home, but everyone’s with us. We’ll be fine out here.”

The sheep Pokemon looks at him with half-lidded eyes, letting out a slight yawn. 

“Tired?” Hop laughs. “It’s not that late yet. Should I message Vic and see how he’s doing? I wonder if he’s free right now…”

His Rotom Phone whirrs as he powers it on, scrolling through masses of notifications before he gives up and clicks on the messaging application. Victor’s last message reads, “miss ya, dude!” followed up by a red heart emoji and a purple heart emoji. Hop’s heart twists. There hasn’t been enough time for them to chat late at night, and he’s been leaving Victor practically unanswered.

Without thinking, Hop fingers the call button, the ring startling Dubwool just as he begins to doze off. The Pokemon clicks its tongue in annoyance before resting its head on its hooves. Hop murmurs an apology as he listens for Victor’s automated message. He’s not sure what he’ll say after the tone, but hearing Victor’s voice tell him to call back at a different time would sure be enough to make him feel a little better before he sleeps.

_ “Hi, you’ve reached Victor’s mobile phone. I’m not available at the moment, so please leave a message and I’ll return your call later –” _

Hop squeezes his eyes shut until lights flicker under his eyelids like Butterfree. “Stupid schedules,” he mumbles, feeling loneliness settle in the pit of his stomach. Hearing Victor’s voice sucks all of the joy out of Hop – it reminds him of better times, of late nights and shared gazes underneath the summer sky.

“The Perseid meteor shower is tonight,” Hop says. “I hope you get to see the same night sky as I do, Vic.”

With the relegation of his past life, Hop feels a little empty inside. If Galar was the garden that he and Victor strove to raise from scratch after Rose’s rampage, then Kalos was Hop finally moving on to new fields, even if just for a little. Even if Victor can’t be with him right now, Hop knows he’ll see Victor again soon – and that’s enough to get him through the next day.

Hop stops his recorded message with a tap and stretches up toward the sky. A simultaneous glance out the window dampens his mood within a few seconds – no stars are visible among the white lights. “Looks like the light pollution here is too strong for us to see the stars, Dubwool. Guess I was foolish to think that Vic and I would see the same night sky.”

Dubwool blows air out from its nostrils, and as if on cue, the hotel room’s lights go out. The air conditioner’s buzz doesn’t stop, however, and Hop laughs to himself as the rest of the city begins to flicker.

“I suppose even Kalosians like to stargaze sometimes, eh?” he smiles, watching each building shut its lighting system off. Bit by bit, the night sky’s darkness becomes more prominent, sending a warm feeling surging through Hop’s chest. The moon stands out against the pitch-black backdrop, and the twinkle of distant stars reminds him of camping in his backyard as a kid.

“I miss him,” Hop admits to an already-dozing Dubwool. “I wonder if he misses me too.”

* * *

Victor steps out of the shower with his hair dripping wet. The bathmat, spotted with tiny patches of dampness, crumples under his feet as he does a little tap dance to dry himself off. He throws on a shirt and some pants before swinging open the bathroom door. His bed, only a few strides away, seems warm and ready to be slept in – and Victor cannot deny such an invitation. He runs toward it with post-shower vigor, so exhausted that he’s excited to lie down. Unfortunately, as he flops onto his bed, his Rotom Phone digs into his ribcage – a variable he forgot to consider pre-launch.

“Ugh! Who put this here?” Victor hisses, unwilling to admit his severe lapse in judgement. He rolls over before checking his notifications, yawning as he clears his Pokemon Cafe Mix’s requests to  _ please play the game again Victor your virtual customers miss you dearly. _ His eyes nearly fall out of their sockets when he notices a missed call from Hop alongside a voicemail. “Fuck! Why do you only call when I’m showering?!” Victor curses his crush before playing the message.

Hop’s voice is melodic and forlorn – and Victor feels a little guilty for showering  _ so darn early, why did he do that today? _ With a sigh, Victor uses his foot to open the window, using his heel to unlatch the lock on it. 

The outside air is chilly, but as he peers outside, there are a few shooting stars blazing by – probably the Perseid thing Hop was talking about, Victor notes. It’s sort of sentimental that they can view the same thing at relatively the same time – and after such a blue day, Victor feels a little better.

“I’m silly. Of course I wasn’t the only one thinking about us,” he murmurs to himself. Hop really meant it when he said he couldn’t forget – at least a little bit.

Victor hums to himself as the stars pass him by – letting the world slow down just a little bit that evening.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos if you enjoyed! comments are always appreciated; i read each and every one of them. they help motivate me to write more!


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